Sinclair speaks childish antics in her room,
She’s dressed in cotton whites with smiles and laughs.
Sue Anne speaks coy and calm with blushing cheeks,
For when she sighs, those words seep soft and slow,
Two sisters in the garden of their childhood,
Once wombed and peaceful in their mother’s body.
I wish to tell them tall tales from the bedside,
To be the father told about in books,
But autumn passes like the light of day;
The sisters leave their paintings on my heart.
Collected with the trinkets dressed in webs
And all these drawings from their tiny hands,
I cherish all these years of childhood craze
Beneath this autumn sun so come what may.
Alex R. Encomienda is an author of literary fiction and poetry who began writing at age nine in elementary school.
